Perfectly Corrupted
by Cerabellum's Matrix
Summary: Celia Bailey lives a life of total perfection, from her perfectly tidy apartment to her perfectly planned out days. But when she is suddenly kidnapped by one of Gotham's notorious for information on her father's thriving company, her perfection streak comes to a deadly halt as she finds herself trapped in more-than-dangerous waters. Great White SharkXOC Review please.
1. A Day in the Life of Celia Bailey

Celia Bailey lived a life of perfection. In her extravagant apartment that her father paid for, everything was neat, and tidy. There was no dust in the surfaces, and nothing was out of place. The books on her shelves were catalogued, and the magazines were stacked by order of arrival date. Even the condiments within her refrigerator were assorted by size and popularity. Not a single stain blemished her white carpet. Everything was in order.

Perfect.

Her job hours at her father's successful company were the exact same every day; nine a.m. to four p.m., and she arrived back home at exactly six p.m. to prepare dinner for herself and her pet beta fish, Monty. After dinner, she would watch her favorite soap opera, All My Children, from eight p.m. until nine p.m., after which she would shower and go to bed, ready to begin her routine all over again the next day. This was her life of perfection, and she was perfectly content with it.

Then something happened that fucked it all up.

…

Celia woke up at six a.m. to the sound of her alarm clock. She groggily hit the 'off' button and sat up, her powder-white hair in a silky mess atop her head. After allowing herself to adjust her eyes, she slid out of her comfortable bed and padded to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror. For someone who had just woken up with a bad case of bed-head, she still felt she looked pretty good. Her slightly tan skin that didn't quite go with her white hair was smooth and unscathed, save for some freckles that dusted the tops of her shoulders. Her large, golden brown eyes had no bags under them, and her full lips were shaped into a bow. A single beauty mark was located just under her left eye.

She looked down in the mirror at her chest. B-cups.

"Hmph. Not _everything_ can be great." She mumbled, and brushed her hair out. When brushed, the straight hair reached just below her ear, and curved inward at the ends. She didn't bother with using makeup; it took too much time to fuss with and required too much attention throughout the day. Chapstick was all that she kept in her purse, along with her phone and mini sketchpad.

She went to the kitchen and began to prepare herself an omelet, making sure to keep her area clean. When it was finished, she sat at the plain white table and ate while silently planning her routine day.

"Okay, let's get this over with." She said when she was done, and cleaned her mess up before she walked back to her room to her closet. From it, she picked out a simple white blouse and a black skirt. After changing, she walked into the living room and fed her black and blue beta fish. "There, Monty." She said lovingly. Fish. Cute enough to enjoy, and clean enough to keep. The perfect pet.

"I'll see you when I get back." She said, and headed for the door. She took her purse from the left prong behind the door and took her jacket from the right one. After grabbing her keys, she left for work.

…

"Hey, Celia. What's up?" one of Celia's colleagues, Matt, greeted her as she entered the elevator. She smiled kindly at the handsome man with wavy brown hair and tanned skin.

She despised him.

"Same old, same old, Matt. How are you?" she asked, then pushed the button to take her to floor twenty-six. Matt shrugged and flashed her a brilliant smile with shining white teeth. If she wasn't so short, she would like to reach up and knock them out of his head…

"I dunno. That depends." He said. Celia sighed, and gritted her teeth.

"That depends on _what_, Matt?" she asked politely.

"That depends on whether or not you'll finally go on that date I've been asking about for the last two weeks." He said. Celia shivered inside. _Gross_. He may have been good looking, but he was a completely self-centered idiot who had to make sure his hair was 'okay' every five minutes. Plus she suspected he really only wanted to be with her to get close to her father, the owner and CEO of this company.

"I'm terribly sorry, Matt, but I'm just too _busy_ to be going out on dates." She lied. "I have so much take-home work to do every day, and all." Matt laughed.

"Haven't you figured out yet that you can just dump your work on one of the 'lower-level' employees? They'd do _anything_ for _you_." He said. "I can share my guy. He does most of my work. A few more folders won't hurt him." Celia forced herself to keep from throwing up her omelet.

"Um, though that's a great offer, Matt, I must decline. I like working." She said. Matt's eyebrow rose in disbelief.

"You're a weird girl. Whatever, you'll see things my way soon enough. You got my number if you want to do anything _fun_." He said. The elevator door opened at floor twenty-four, and he stepped out. He waved to her as the doors closed again to take her upward.

"Creep." She muttered.

When she reached her floor, she made her way over to her large office that overlooked the Gotham Park. She set her keys down in the catch-all and started to work filing and double-checking the company's profit margin so she may check off the prices necessary for next quarter. After that, she makes it into a neat little presentation to show her father and his associates at the end of the month.

Yay, percentages…

After three hours of working through the sea of manila folders, she finally decided to take her lunch break, which lasted for about fifteen minutes and consisted of her eating a power-bar.

"Why does bait have to be so complicated?" she asked herself. She meant the subject that her father's company manufactured, which was fishing bait and tackle. The 'Fisherman's Friend' bait company was the leading industry when it came to bait, topping all the other companies easily. It manufactured everything from simple bobbers to the little slimy rubber fish that was drenched in gook that fish apparently loved.

The oddest thing about all that is her father didn't even _like_ fishing. He only did this for the money. He thought it was the perfect opportunity, and he took it.

"Always strive for perfection, accept nothing below par, and never let little issues keep you from reaching perfection." He would say repeatedly to her when she was a child.

"Perfection…" she muttered to herself as she stared out the large window, still chewing on a piece of the 'mega raspberry' power-bar.

"My dear! Hello!" the sudden booming voice of her father made her jump, and drop the other half of the bar to the floor. She hurriedly picked it up and threw it in the trash before turning to see Joseph Bailey, CEO, walk in. He was a large man, balding, with large glasses over his eyes, making them seem a little larger than they really were. He smiled at her, and she smiled back to him politely.

"Hello daddy, how are you?" she asked.

"'Daddy'? _Cute_." Someone else said from outside. Bailey 'herumphed' and scolded his daughter.

"Remember, Celia; refer to me as 'sir' in the workplace." He said. Celia bowed her head.

"Yes, my apologies, d-sir." She whispered.

"I have someone I would like you to meet." Bailey said. Celia looked up to see that a tall man walked in. He wore a black coat and white dress pants. He seemed well built, from what Celia could see, which wasn't much at all; his entire body was covered in clothing. His hands were gloved, and his face was wrapped in a type of white scarf. Dark glasses covered his eyes. No skin showed.

Celia caught herself staring, and quickly cast her eyes away. The man chuckled under his cover.

"I have Photosensitivity; I'm allergic to the sun." he said. Celia looked back at him. His voice was very calm, almost dark. There was something else about it…

"Ah, yes! You must have found that strange, Celia. I apologize for not explaining right away!" Bailey said. Celia nodded.

"It's fine. Is there something you need?" she asked, suddenly very aware of all the light shining through her wall of a window.

"Oh, no! I'm just showing this gentleman around the building. He works for another company in Metropolis, and they are interested in partnering with us!" Bailey explained. Celia smiled.

Yay, more paperwork…

"That's wonderful." She said. Bailey nodded.

"Yes, this gentleman was sent to review our work place for the company. He's making sure that everything meets the other company's standards."

"So far, I am impressed." The man said quietly.

"Yes, of course!" Bailey said, and gestured to the room. "As I have always told my employees; Strive for perfection-"

"-Accept nothing below par, and never let little issues keep you from reaching perfection." Celia finished almost robotically. Bailey beamed at her, and the man simply looked at her.

"What do you do with things that aren't perfect, Miss Bailey?" he asked.

"I perfect them." She said. Bailey nodded encouragingly. The man still only looked.

"And if it cannot be perfected by any means?" he asked.

"I throw it away." She said. The man nodded slowly at this, and there was a moment of awkward silence. Bailey cleared his throat to end it.

"This office is where the money issues are taken care of! Miss Bailey, my daughter, serves as the primary worker that deals with it all." He said. The man looked at Bailey in surprise.

"Isn't there usually a team of at _least_ three to five?" he asked. Bailey nodded.

"Yes, but my dear girl has so much time on her dainty hands, she's able to get more work done in a week than an entire _team_ could in a _month_!" he said. Celia felt her cheeks become warm. Her father basically just said she had no life in front of some _guy_…

The man looked over to Celia and seemed to smile under the scarf.

"Impressive." He said, then turned back to Bailey. "I trust you know the percentages this company brings in, sir? See, my company would like to know exactly how much of a profit they would make when partnering with you…" he said. Bailey chuckled.

"Sadly, I don't know the little things. Miss Bailey only gives me the important stuff at the end of the month. She's the one with all the details in all of these files you see." Bailey gestured to the room again. The man looked back at Celia. A shiver crept up her spine. Even though she couldn't see them, she felt his eyes bore right into her skull…

"I see…" he said in a hushed whisper. Celia had to change the subject.

"I'm sorry, what was your name, sir?" she asked quickly.

"Oh, my deepest apologies!" Bailey said loudly. "This gentleman's name is William…er, what was your last name, son?"

"My name is William Doe. A pleasure to meet you." William gave a small bow to Celia. She couldn't help but feel a shred of flattery.

"N-nice to meet you, too." She replied. She really wished she could see under that scarf.

"Well then! We ought to be going! Much more to see here!" Bailey said. "We'll be out of your hair now, dear! Goodbye!"

"Bye." William said to her. Celia nodded.

"Yeah, bye." The two left, and closed the door behind them. Air rushed back into Celia's lungs, and she lay her head down on her desk. She took a few deep breaths before finally sitting back up and fixing her hair.

"That guy is so weird…"

…

"Hey, did you have the pleasure of meeting the over-clothed freak today?" Matt asked as the elevator slowly made its way down to the first floor. Their workday was over, and it was time to go home. Celia kept her eyes straight forward.

"Yes, and isn't that a little rude? He's Photosynthetic."

"Photo-what?" Matt asked. Celia took a deep breath.

"It's an allergy to the sun."

"So, he's a _vampire_…"

"No…"

"Great, now we have the undead roaming the floors. I see he's already gotten to _you_." Matt said. Celia looked up to him.

"I'm sorry?"

"He's gotten to you. You look dead tired. Told you, you should have dumped your work on someone else. Hey, you say you have all this work to take home, but you never have anything but your keys with you when you leave…." Matt said suspiciously. Celia held up her keys. A flashdrive hung from the loop.

"Flashdrive." She said. Matt huffed in defeat. She really didn't have any work on their; she wasn't even allowed to take the documents she worked with home. She was only thinking ahead. She knew he would become suspicious _sometime_.

The elevator opened, and the two walked out. Celia moved briskly towards the exit, Matt walking next to her. When she was out of the building, she walked toward her little yellow car. Matt stayed next to her. She became annoyed.

"Is there something you need, Matt?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Just walking you to your car. Don't know what kind of freaks could get you at this time of night."

"The sun is still up."

"Don't matter."

When they reached the car. Celia turned to him and told him goodbye.

"Hold on. Have you thought about it?" he asked. Celia sighed.

"Thought about what, Matt?"

"That date. You gonna say yes now?" he asked, swaggering his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, Matt, but n-"

"Oh, c'mon, Celia. A good looking chick like you needs a good lookin' guy. It's the natural order of things." He said. Celia wanted to vomit horribly all over his suit.

"That's..."

"What?" Matt moved closer to her, a suggestive look on his handsome face. Celia backed up against her car.

"Matt, please…"

"C'moooon…"

"Miss Bailey!" Celia and Matt looked up to where the voice came from. It was William Doe, and he was walking over to them. A wave of relief washed over Celia.

'Thank God.'

"What do you need?" Matt said without a shred of politeness in his voice. William reached them and looked to Matt.

"I need to speak with Miss Bailey." He said quietly. Matt frowned.

"About _what_?" he asked. He sounded almost territorial.

"Company business, so if you could please excuse us. It's confidential." William replied smoothly. Matt gave him an annoyed look before leaving.

"See you, Celia. And remember what I said." He said, and walked off. Celia took a deep breath and turned to William.

"Yes? What about the company?" she asked politely. William chuckled.

"I don't need to know anything for now; I just figured I would save you the trouble of enduring that pompous-ass for any longer." He said. Celia stared at him.

"You did that for me?" she asked.

"Yeah, I figured you had someone at home waiting up for you, so I got rid of him. You're welcome." he said. Celia could have kissed this guy if his face wasn't covered.

"Thank you so much, but I live alone. You still did me a big favor, doing that. He is, as you said, quite pompous." She said. William's head was cocked to the side.

"You mean you don't have a boyfriend or anything? A dog, at least?" he asked. Celia laughed.

"No, no boyfriend and no dog. The only pet I have is Monty, and he's a fish." She said. William seemed to smile.

"Of course a bait and tackle company worker would have a pet fish. So, you prefer that animal?" he asked. Celia nodded.

"Yes, fish are so adorable to me."

"What's your favorite kind?" he asked. His tone of voice seemed to change, and Celia suddenly felt a bit uneasy.

"Well, um, it would have to be dolphins." She said. "Yes, they may be a mammal, but they're still a water creature. And they're _powerful_, too. _Sharks_ are afraid of them." She said. She was babbling, and she caught herself and stopped. William seemed to go a bit rigid, and she feared she made him uncomfortable.

"Well, Miss Bailey. I'd hate to hold you up any longer. I may see you tomorrow. If not, then goodbye and good evening." He said, and turned to leave.

"Um, bye." Celia called weakly, and watched him go. Afterwards, she opened the car door and got inside. She griped the wheel tightly.

"That guy is so…." She stopped herself, and looked in the rearview mirror. She could still see him walking away, his back turned to her.

Celia Bailey couldn't describe this person.

_Perfect_….

...

**Author's Note: A story from an old account that I wanted to bring back to life. I wasn't able to find Great White Shark on the character select area while submitting. Odd. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! :)**


	2. Warren White

_She stood in a black void, walking aimlessly. _

"_Mason!" he__r__ voice was small, scared. _

_She was fourteen, and she was lost._

"_Mason! Where are you!"_

Celia woke up, tears on her face. Her eyes burned. She sat up and rubbed them, then looked around her bedroom. Everything was fine. Perfect. She sighed and looked at the alarm clock. The glowing red digits read; 2:36.

"Of course…." She lay back down and closed her eyes again.

Even her dreams woke her up at the same time, every night…

….

It was Friday. TGIF, Casual Dress, Pay-Day. People came to work happy, dressed in jeans and talking about who's buying the drinks tonight.

Celia didn't participate in any of that.

It didn't matter if it was Friday. She still had work to do. She came to work in dress clothes, as usual, and headed straight to her office, passing by all the doughnut boxes and gleeful chit-chatters.

'No rest for the wicked, my ass. At least they get _breaks.'_ she thought to herself as she entered her office. She closed the door with a 'snap' behind her and got to work, as always.

Some minutes later, she heard a light rap on the door.

"Come in…" she said, still engrossed in her calculations. The door opened, and she looked up, half-expecting someone with another folder for her to review.

Instead it was William, dressed as he was yesterday; completely covered up. Celia sputtered.

"Uh-wha-Hello! Can I help you, Mr. Doe?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yes, your father said you would have something for me to look over in terms of this company's percentage of profit. If you would be so kind, I would like to see it." He said. He sounded a little more alive today. Less quiet. Celia took this as a sign of him losing his shyness around the place, and she smiled.

"Yes, of course. Just one second." She said, and walked over to a stack of manila folders. She grabbed the entire stack and took it over to William. He seemed surprised.

"My, aren't you thorough." He said, and took the stack. Celia chuckled.

"Yeah, that isn't even half of it. Most of it is stored in my brain. I only print out the stuff my father wants to see."

"So this," William said, gesturing to the large stack in his arms. "Isn't all of it? That's a lot of percentages."

"You're telling _me_. That in your arms is just the end result. All the 'how it got there' is in my head and on the master computer's hard drive." She said, then stopped herself. Why did she just say that?

"Should I pretend I didn't hear that?" he asked in amusement. Celia smiled sheepishly.

"That would be appreciated." She said.

"Hey, this may sound weird, but would you like to go out for something to eat during your break? I swear I'm not hitting on you, It's just I'm leaving at four for Metropolis and I want to make sure I have everything straight with this." He said. Celia considered this for a moment. She didn't really want to, since there was so much work to do. But she didn't want to be rude. She wanted to see his face, so she could get even the smallest hint of a lie from it. She sighed inside, and nodded.

"Sure, why not? You seem harmless. And if you try anything I can just take off your scarf. Simple." She said. She then looked at how much taller he was than she.

'Two feet at least…Damn my shortness…' she thought. William seem amused.

"You have an odd sense of humor, Miss Bailey. When is your lunch?" he asked.

"It's at noon." She said, and opened the door for him. "I'll see you then."

"Of course." He replied, and left. Celia closed the door and stood there for a moment. For the first time in six years she wouldn't go with the routine.

"Hmm." She said to herself, then sat back down at her desk and returned to work.

…

William chose a small place near Celia's work to eat at called 'Salad Garden'. They sat outside, per his request, and he ended up not ordering anything. Celia ordered a light salad with lemonade.

"Don't you want to eat?" she asked him. He shook his head.

"I already ate. I'm not a salad person, anyway." He said. Celia blinked.

"Then why did you take us out to lunch for the work-talk? We could have done it in my office." She said.

"I really didn't want to spend another minute in that place, and you seemed like you felt the same way, so I just figured I'd take us out." He said, and shrugged. Celia nodded.

"Well, thanks for that. You're right; it can get a bit stuffy in there, even in a big office." She said. She took a sip of her lemonade. "But aren't you hot in those layers of clothing?" she asked. William began to drum his fingers on the table.

"No, not really." Was his answer. Celia's brow furrowed. She didn't get this guy in the slightest. It was nearly eighty-six degrees right now, and the pavement all around them only made it seem hotter…

"Well then," she said, deciding not to hang on the subject. "You said you wanted to make sure you had everything right before you left. Why don't you tell me what you learned, and I'll fill in any necessary details and correct any mistakes." She said in her professional tone. William nodded and relayed to her what he took from the many files.

"So, is that it? Or is there more?" he asked when he finished. Celia stared at him. In just a few hours he was able to memorize all that correctly. She cleared her throat and took a sip of her nearly drained lemonade.

"Erm, I think you got it all. Goodness, you're thorough as well, I see." She said, impressed.

"I try." William's voice sounded like he was smiling. "But, I find it hard to really believe that's it. So there is seriously more?" he asked. Celia nodded.

"But all of that is confidential, and I'm not allowed to share that information without an officer present to watch over." She said.

"And only you know all this stuff? That must be a load on your mind…" William said. "Doesn't your father help you out?" he asked. Celia scoffed.

"Even if he tried to help, I would end up kicking him out anyway; he's forgetful. Besides, he only likes the end result, and seeing those perfect percentages in my end-of-month presentation to the board. He doesn't really care for how the money got there in the first place." She said. William was nodding slowly along as she spoke.

"I see. You've left me incredibly curious, I'm afraid. Could you give me just a _hint_ of what's sitting in your mind? I won't tell, I swear." He said, and held his hand up, palm forward. "Cub Scout's honor." Celia laughed, and nodded. He seemed trustworthy.

"Alright, I can't give the details, but, just imagine a large net, or web, where each of the intersections is one place where either our products are sold or where the money for that product is transferred. And, like a web, it all eventually leads to a center point, which I can't tell you about." She said.

"I would think the money would go to the work building, or a bank near it." William said. Celia shook her head.

"Nope. You wouldn't believe where it all goes. And I won't tell you." She said.

"Alright, I'm content with what you gave me. Is it a large net?" he asked. Celia nodded.

"Imagine a net around the world, buddy." She said, and drew an invisible circle in the air with her finger.

"Excuse my language, but _damn_. That's a lot of information on your brain. You're like a human hard drive." He said. Celia nodded and took a bite from her salad.

"The perfect worker." She said.

"Your father seems obsessed with perfection." William said. Celia smirked.

"Yeah, you sensed that, too?"

"So do you." William's last words made Celia go still.

"Do I?" was all she managed. William nodded, then pointed to her silverware, which was arranged in a row.

"Yes. When we got here, you took your silverware from the napkin and placed it in a row. Now it looks perfect…" Celia looked down at the shining silver. Did she really do that? She didn't remember. It was so routine, that she didn't even think about it anymore.

"Yes, it seems so…" she muttered. William leaned forward and propped himself on his elbows.

"What is your definition of 'perfect', Miss Bailey?" he asked. "What is 'perfection' to you?"

Celia's mind was running laps. This was supposed to be a business-based lunch, and here this guy was, asking personal questions.

'Whatever, I'll answer. It's simple enough.' She thought to herself. Of course it was simple.

Wasn't it?

An answer formed in her mind, and old answer she used to use. But she knew it was wrong, according to her father. He corrected her, and now she had the right answer. She thought she had the right answer. She knew-no. _Yes_, she knew. She was sure of it. Her father said it was, so...

"Something without any faults, of course." She said finally. She was confident with her answer.

"Saying that is telling me that nothing is perfect in any sense, Miss Bailey." William said. His voice almost made her jump; he sounded so serious. He went on. "Of course, that's true to most people, the notion that nothing is perfect. I mean, that fork you're holding-one of the prongs is slightly bent. This table's legs are uneven, and needs some coasters placed under it to keep it from wobbling. Our government is corrupt, and school teachers don't know everything they claim to. Our entire world is built on in-perfection. Your world-wide net will find a fault in its system soon enough; perfection doesn't last." Celia caught herself staring, then looked down, her face flushed.

"Well, I hardly think that our company could have any faults. And even if we find one, we would perfect it-"

"Even _you're_ imperfect," William interrupted. "You take the words from your father, instead of using your own voice. Do you seriously believe what you have been taught to say, sometimes? You probably haven't even thought about that. You're a doll. A very smart puppet." Celia was frozen. William leaned in closer. "Is there a single original thought in your head? Or is it all robotics? Routine? Do you have a life outside your father's work?"

"I-I…" Celia tried to speak, but nothing came out. William seemed to smirk under his scarf.

"Maybe you _are_ perfect. Like you said; the perfect worker. Congratulations." He said. Celia took a deep breath and placed her fork down on the table. Her mind was racing. This guy…he was so kind before. Now, he was just…

"I'm sorry, I need to go. My break is almost over and I have a lot of work to do." She said, and pulled a ten dollar bill from her pocket and dropped it on the table. After hearing what he said, she felt a little pathetic saying what she just did. She stood and left, not bothering to look back at him. She forced her mind on her work, to help get him out of her head.

'All that paperwork…'

….

He watched her leave, very content with his actions. When she disappeared, he looked over to the ten dollar bill resting on the table. He picked it up and looked at it.

"Oh, Miss Bailey. This isn't even a scratch of what you'll be making me in the very near future…." He muttered, and placed the bill in his jacket pocket.

After that, he stood and left without paying.

…

_She was at the national competition, and she was the next contestant. Her coach had given her the pep-talk, and her teammates had given her their best wishes._

_She stepped out onto the thin board that was propped exactly three feet in the air. She took a deep breath, raised her arms above her head…_

Celia woke up with a jolt. She was sitting on her white couch, the television displaying a commercial for cleaner. She looked up at the clock. It was nine-fifteen p.m.

"Are you serious, Monty?" she asked. "I just slept through 'All My Children'…" Less than happy, Celia grudgingly stood up from the couch and stretched before walking to the bathroom to shower.

Ten minutes later, she stepped out of the bathroom in her favorite white silk nightgown and a white robe. Pink slippers donned her feet and she walked out to the kitchen to get one last drink before finally retiring for the night. As she filled her glass, Celia noticed something off about the counter space.

There was a speck of dirt.

Celia turned off the water and set the glass down quietly. That dirt sure as hell wasn't there when she made dinner. And she cleaned all the surfaces when she was finished, so this dirt was definitely out of place.

What the fuck?

Celia narrowed her eyes at it, mentally interrogating it.

'Who sent you….' She thought suspiciously. It didn't reply. Of course it wouldn't. It's _dirt_. It couldn't have placed itself there by any means, so someone else put it there.

Celia was now very aware of her surroundings. Was someone in the room? Forcing herself to keep calm, she casually took one of the frying pans from the hook in front of her.

Then she swung it with all her might.

Even though she was suspicious of someone being in her apartment, she was still horribly surprised that the pan actually collided with something.

And that something yelled a very loud "Ow!"

She looked up to see that she had smashed a really buff guy with a hockey mask right in the face. He stumbled back, gripping his face with his hands.

"Fffucking HELL! Damned bitch got me!" He yelled. Celia was panicking.

'Omigod there's someone in my apartment. Omigod, omigod, _omigoooood_.' She thought. She kept the pan gripped tightly in her hands, and she raised it a little, just in case.

"I told you bringing a spare guy would be good, Don…" a gruff voice said from outside the kitchen. Another intruder walked in, shaking his masked head at his partner. "The boss ain't gonna like the fact that you got beaten by a chick."

"_Fuck_! _That_! Just get the bitch already!" said Don. Blood ran from his exposed nose. The other thug tsked and looked to Celia. He began walking to her, and he pulled a gun from the front of his pants. Celia began to shake terribly.

"Listen, lady. We got specific orders not to hurt you too bad, alright? But If you try anything, we got permission to bruise you up, so think rationally." He said, then pointed to the frying pan. "I have to ask you to drop your weapon, or I'll use mine, got me?" Celia looked from him to his gun, and swallowed hard.

She lowered the pan.

"Very good." The intruder said. His partner was still cursing behind him. The intruder then walked right up to Celia and took the pan from her trembling hands. She looked up at him.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I dunno. I just do the little work. The boss wants to speak with ya." He said. Celia nodded.

Then kicked him in the groin.

He collapsed, cursing loudly. Celia ran for it. Don grabbed her robe, but she slipped out of it and ran towards the door. She reached it. Hope filled her mind as she grabbed the handle. It was gone as soon as it came, however, as something grabbed her hair and threw her backwards. She fell to the floor and hit her head hard. The intruder she kicked between the legs stood above her, a little hunched over from the pain.

"I told you not to try anything, lady…" he said through clenched teeth. He leaned over to pick her up, but she shot her fist out and punched him in the jaw. He staggered, but righted himself. Celia figured her hand hurt more than his jaw did as he grabbed her shoulder and forced her to sit upright. "Sorry I gotta do this, but I warned you." He said.

She felt something hard hit the back of her head, then she plummeted into darkness.

….

"Dammit, the boss ain't gonna be happy, guys." Celia heard a new voice say as she drifted back into consciousness. She was being carried by someone bridal style. The area they were in was cool, and she could hear water. She kept her eyes closed in an attempt to make it seem like she was asleep. If they knew she was awake, they might raise their guard. She wanted a chance to get out, so she would wait for the perfect opportunity.

'Perfect.' The word pierced her mind, and she remembered what William had said to her.

"This bitch hit me with a fucking pan, so don't go tryin' to put me on a fucking guilt trip!" the one she remembered to be Don said.

"Yeah, but she's bleeding." Said the new voice. Celia almost opened her eyes to see where she was bleeding from.

"My nose is _broken_, dammit!" said Don.

"The bleeding is my fault; I hit her a bit too hard with the pistol." Said the one carrying her.

"Dammit, Jerry." Said the other voice.

"I'm used to knocking out _big guys_, alright? I've never kidnapped a Barbie doll before…"

"We could just hide it, right?" Don asked.

"Her hair is _white_. There's no _hiding_ it. Think, man." Jerry said.

"Sorry, but my brains are kinda _scrambled_ from her _smackin'_ me.." Don muttered angrily.

"You're really milkin' that, aren't ya?"

"_Shut up_, Marc."

"She's _awake_, you know…" said a new voice. It was authoritative. The thugs all went silent. She heard footsteps. "If you don't believe me, just drop her." He said.

Celia shot her eyes open to see Jerry looking down at her. His mask was gone, showing a buzz-cut hairdo and a scar just above his right eye. She gulped.

"I'm going to set you down now." He said, and eased her down. Celia stood up straight, then collapsed. Jerry grabbed her shoulders before she hit the floor, and he held her up. There was a ringing in her ears, and she felt weak. She kept her eyes downcast, and noticed a pool to the right. "Um.." Jerry began, but someone cut him off.

"She'll be fine. Good work, boys." Said the new voice.

"Thanks, boss." Jerry said. Celia blinked and looked up.

She tried to scream, but her voice caught in her throat.

Their 'boss' was as white as paper, and was missing his lips, nose and ears. His mouth was a large, deadly grin of pointed teeth that were just as white as his skin. Permanent. His eyes were brown, and they we currently narrowed into slits as he glared at Celia. She shook terribly.

He looked just like a shark.

He walked towards her. He wore a black suit and dress shoes. A Rolex watch was located on his left wrist. It glittered with diamonds.

"I still can't believe she beat you two up before you finally knocked her out…" he said. He took a handkerchief from his sleeve and held it over his mouth to keep himself from drooling; it was difficult not to do so when you had no lips to stop it. "She's nothing more than a weak little seal…"

Celia saw him hold his free hand up, as a gesture to shake hers. She only stared at it. He shook his head and dropped his hand.

"Just give her a frying pan, boss. Apparently she goes beast-mode with those things." Marc said, and pointed to Don, who Celia noticed had a bandage over his nose. One of his eyes were black and swollen, and….was he missing a tooth?

"That's not fuckin' funny! I should kill that bitch for ruining my face!" Don shouted. Marc grinned.

"Nah, I like you like this. It's an improvement."

"Fuck you, man!"

"Don," the boss said. "Shut the hell up." Don huffed, but nodded.

"Yes, Shark." He said. Celia's eyes widened.

'Shark? That's what he's called?' she thought. The boss looked to her again.

"Do you know who I am, Miss Bailey?" he asked. Celia shook her head vigorously. He sighed. "Of course not; you have no life outside the workplace." He said, then cleared his throat. "How about now?" he asked in an altered voice. It sounded familiar. Celia's eyes widened when realization dawned on her. She felt her heart drop into her stomach.

"William Doe?" she asked in a squeak. He nodded, and his toothy mouth seemed to shift upwards at the corners into a smile.

"Exactly! But that was just a fake little thing I came up with. I'm better known by all of Gotham as Warren White, or the Great White Shark. Now, you know who that is, correct?" he asked. Celia felt like her eyes would pop out of her skull. She nodded. She knew who this guy was now. She'd read about him in the papers. He was a con-man who also happened to be an Arkham patient. She knew through papers and rumors that anybody who got in his way was quickly dealt with, with a bullet...

Or with his deadly jaws...

"Y-yes…" she mumbled. "I know…"

"Good! Then you know I mean business. I have some numbers and information I need extracted from your pretty little head, and the only way I'll get that is if you tell me about it, which you will of course do, should you value your freedom and your life." He said, his voice filling the large room. Celia looked around. She saw the pool, which was in the center of the space. At the far back was a wall of a window overlooking the city. In front of it was a large desk. It was an office.

"Where am I?" she asked. White shook his head.

"I'll not say." He said. Celia should have expected that. She was out of her element. Away from the safety of her apartment, which turned out to not be very safe anyway. She bit her lip as a crazy thought popped into her head.

'Who's going to feed Monty…'

"Now that this bitch is awake, let's make her useful…" Don said suggestively from behind White. Celia looked at him , and he looked right back, smiling like he was going to do something. She tried to step back, but Jerry held her firm. White looked to the thug and cocked his head.

"And what are you suggesting, exactly?" he asked. Don's smile widened.

"_Y'know_, boss. I was just thinkin' that when you're done with her, we could have a little fun with her. Or we could have fun now…" he said as he looked over Celia. She knew what he was talking about, and she felt over-exposed in her silk nightgown. A tear ran down her cheek as she feared the worst from these men.

White looked over to her and saw the tears welling in her eyes. He shook his head and tsked. "Don, you've made her cry." He said sadly. He pulled a gun from inside his jacket and pointed it at Don, who froze.

"B-boss, what-" he began, but White's cocking the gun made him go silent.

"I don't work like that, Don. You're too much of a risk for my subject, and I'm afraid I'll have to let you go…" White said in a professional manner. Celia thought he actually sounded apologetic. White aimed, and Celia wanted to shut her eyes, but something in her mind forced them to remain open. Don held his hands up.

"Wait, boss! N-"

_BLAM! BLAM!_

Two quick shots from the silencer, and Don fell to the floor, two holes in his forehead. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth stupidly. Blood pooled around his body and filled the cracks between the tiles.

Celia suddenly snapped out of her fuzzed delusion and screamed. She wrenched herself free from Jerry's grip and backed away from them. They all looked at her like nothing just happened. They were calm. Celia shook her head and kept backing away, hugging herself tightly. Jerry suddenly stepped forward.

"Watch out-"

"_Stay away from me_!" she screamed, interrupting him. She didn't notice the pool right behind her, and she tripped on the ledge.

She fell in.

When she hit the water, she sank like a stone to the bottom. She tried to stand and reach the surface, but the water was too deep, and she couldn't swim.

'Oh, god. I'm going to die here…' she thought to herself as she covered her mouth and nose. She was becoming dizzy again, and she saw a small cloud of faded blood loom over her as it mixed from her hair into the water that stung her eyes.

She heard a muffled splash and turned around. She screamed again, but the water muted her cry.

It was a shark.


	3. Welcome to Hell

Celia slammed her eyes shut and braced herself in wait for her horrible end as the shark swam quickly towards her. She flinched when it wrapped an arm around her and held her against its chest.

Wait…

'Sharks don't have arms…and they don't have chests…' she thought. She hesitantly touched the mysterious creature with her hand.

'Sharks _definitely_ don't have abs…'

Before Celia could organize her thoughts, she was brought up to the surface, where she gratefully sucked in oxygen. It hurt her lungs, but she didn't care. She wiped her stinging eyes and opened them to see what exactly was holding her.

It was White, and he seemed agitated as he swam them both to the steps that led from the water. Celia wanted to kick away from him, but she knew if she did that, she would sink again, and this time he might not help her.

When they reached the steps she climbed them upward and collapsed on the cold floor, shaking and coughing. White stood next to her and glared.

"Please keep from jumping in the pool unless you want to be fish feed…" he said tiredly. Celia looked up at him, and froze. He was only wearing boxers. She looked from his muscled body to where Jerry and Marc stood. They were carrying his clothes. He noticed her confusion. "I'm not ruining an Armani suit just to save your stupid ass." He explained. Celia shot him a hateful look. He took his sweet time saving her, just to keep his suit nice…

"Great. What did you mean by _fish feed_?" she asked, her teeth chattering. White walked over to a closet and opened it. As he looked inside, he jutted his thumb in the direction of the pool.

"Look a little closer, Miss Bailey." He said, and pulled out two black-and-white striped towels. Celia did as he said, and looked over. Her voice caught in her throat.

There really was a shark in there, nearly six feet in length, and it was swimming in circles where she had fallen in. It was a baby great white.

Celia's eyes were wide, and she barely noticed White resting a towel over her shoulders. She gripped it.

"I was almost eaten alive…" she muttered. White nodded.

"And then I would have had to clean the pool and get a new hostage. That would have been an inconvenience for me. You should be more considerate." He said. Celia had half a mind to push him back in. "You could try," he said, as if he read her mind, "But you would fail, just saying."

"Trying never hurt anybody." She said bitterly. He seemed to smile again.

"It will in your case. I don't need your arms, Miss Bailey, just your brain…" he said as he dried himself off. He then threw the towel over his shoulder and walked off. Before he exited the room, he looked over to Jerry. "Get Miss Bailey a change of clothes, and you," he then looked to Marc, "Get someone to clean that mess up before it drips into the pool." He said, pointing to Don's lifeless body. The thugs nodded.

"Yes, boss." They said in unison.

"And for the love of God, don't fuck with the lady. Your dead buddy is a sad example of the consequences." He said, and left the room.

"Yes, boss." The thugs said, even though he was gone. Marc took out a cellphone and dialed a number. Jerry walked over to Celia. She flinched away when he held his hand out to help her up from the floor.

"Don't worry none, lady. I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'd rather live through the night, ya know?" he said, and smiled. She only looked at him.

"How can you j-joke about that? And how can you be so calm when he just shot your friend? He's _dead_!" she said in disbelief. Jerry nodded.

"It's how things run in the crime business, lady. It's just how we run things here." He said. Celia couldn't believe his words. _Just how we run things?_ These guys were insane. She stood up shakily , still gripping the towel that was wrapped around her.

"Your boss has a pet shark…" she mumbled. Jerry smiled again.

"Yeah, it really brings out his persona, doesn't it?" he said. Celia huffed, and said nothing more. Jerry lead her out of the large office to a lounge area. It was well furnished, with black couches in the center around a glass table. A small bar area was located towards the back where a large rack of different alcoholic beverages was stacked. There was a doorway at the far side of the room that led to a kitchen/dining area. A seventy inch flat screen television was located in the center of the right wall, and a large window allowed view of the city. A set of carpeted stairs to Celia's left led to another floor above her.

"Huh…" Celia managed. She must have been in a pent house or something.

"Your room is this way." Jerry said, and walked up the stairs. Before Celia followed, she noticed the entrance door. She wanted to run, but she didn't.

'I'll wait…' she said, looking back to Jerry, who was nearly to the top. She climbed slowly up the stairs to the next floor. Another lounge area, much smaller than the one downstairs, was located here. The same type of décor was used, but there wasn't a bar or kitchen area. It was just a small area. A glass door led to a small balcony on the outside. Celia had the craziest idea to jump from it and end her suffering with one quick 'splat'…

"Your room is over there." Jerry said, pointing to a white door on the wall to their right. Celia nodded, and walked over to it. As she walked, she noticed yet another set of stairs, metal ones, leading to yet another floor above this one. She turned back to Jerry questioningly.

"What do those lead to?" she asked quietly.

"The boss' room. I never been up there, so I can't give details. It's off limits, not that you would want to go up there anyway, I recon." He said, and began to descend the stairs again. "Kitchen's open if you wanna eat." He said, and he was gone. Celia frowned and opened the door to her room

The room was spacious, but nearly empty. All there really _was _in it was a bed with black covers, a dresser, and a work desk. A closet was located on the left wall, and a door to a bathroom was located on the right. A nightstand was next to her bed, and had a phone and an alarm clock.

Celia's eyes widened. A phone. She ran over to it and ripped it off its rest and put it to her ear. She immediately dialed the numbers 9-1-1, and listened to it ring, wanting to scream for someone to pick it up.

She heard someone answer, and she nearly sobbed with relief.

"Hello?" she asked.

"You insult my intelligence, Miss Bailey…" an annoyed voice answered. Celia froze. It was White.

"What-"

"This is the only phone you have access to, and every number you dial will immediately be sent to me instead. Understand?" he said. Celia crumpled to the floor, the phone still to her ear.

"Why…" she asked. She felt tears sting her eyes.

"Simply because I may need to call you to my office at any time, and I suspect you'll be spending most of your stay here in your room. And, you may need to get ahold of me, if you need to tell me something, just in case. You won't be able to call anyone else from that, I'm afraid." He said. Celia rested her head against the nightstand.

"You knew what I would do when I saw the phone…you knew I would raise my hopes…damn you…damn you…" she slammed the phone back onto its rest. "Dammit…"

She stood back up and walked to the closet. Inside was an assortment of different blouses and dress skirts and pants, all black or white colored.

'At least they aren't crappy…' she thought bitterly as she closed the closet door. She walked to the dresser and opened each drawer. They held either undergarments or sleepwear. Nodding, she took from them a change of clothes; undergarments and long sleeved, black silk pajama shirt and matching pants. After that, she took them to the bathroom, which had a marble floor and counters. There was a stand-in shower, and a large, round tub. A toilet was located next to the counter.

Celia walked over to the tub and looked in warily.

Nope, no sharks.

Sighing, she undressed herself and got into the shower. The warmth was welcomed at first, but Celia winced when the steaming water hit the back of her head. She felt where she had been hit by Jerry. A small bump, and a scratch.

'Great…' she thought, and turned the water's temperature down a bit. Luke-warm was going to have to be the way to go, tonight.

"At least all that salt water is out of my hair now…" she said after she finally exited. After dressing herself, she went to the mirror and wiped away the fog. She turned her head so she could see if any red was present in her white hair. Sometimes she hated her hair color just because of stuff like this. Everything that got in it stuck out like a sore thumb. When she found nothing wrong, she got to work on drying it.

Minutes later, she was back in her room, completely dry, and lying on the bed, which was surprisingly poofy. "What does this guy want from me…" she asked the space around her. Nothing answered. She snorted. "Why would it? It's all furniture…" she said, and closed her eyes.

The phone rang.

Celia's eyes snapped open and she looked at the phone. It continued to ring. She hooded her eyes and looked back to the ceiling.

"I'm not answering you…" she said with a sniff. The ringing stopped after a moment, leaving the room once again silent. "Good…" she said, and closed her eyes again.

The phone rang again.

"Dammit!" Celia sat up and grabbed the phone from its rest. She held it to her ear. "What, Will-Warren-White-whatever you call yourself!"

"You seem to be in a good mood." Was White's answer. Celia's eye twitched.

"You aren't a good comedian, just saying." She said. White gave a small chuckle.

"Anyway, I know it's late, but you're needed in my office. I need to ask you some basic questions regarding your social security and bank numbers." He said.

"You seriously believe I'll just waltz in that death room and tell you everything?" she asked, and stood from the bed to walk to the door, the phone still to her ear. She turned the lock, then went back to the bed. "Because I'm not going to." She said.

"Try not to be too unreasonable, Miss Bailey. I've been very patient with you-"

"And I've been kidnapped by a _crazy_ from _Arkham_! I'm not leaving this room!" she yelled, and hung up. She dropped the phone to the floor and sat down roughly on the bed, furious.

The phone rang a third time. Celia wanted to rip out her hair. She snatched it from the floor and answered.

"_What_?"

"Let's try this again," White said, his voice almost cheery. "Either you come to my office in the next five minutes, or I send Marc to your room to break some bones." He hung up, leaving Celia dumbfounded. She dropped the phone to her lap, and thought about what he just said.

After a moment of consideration, she stood and walked to her dresser.

Then she began to push it towards the door.

After a lot of pushing and swearing, the dresser was set, barricading Celia.

"I called your bluff," she huffed, "But this is just to be sure…"she walked over to her bed and slumped onto it. She buried her face in her pillow and sighed.

Just when she was nearly asleep, someone knocked roughly on the door. Celia tensed.

"Hey, lady! Boss sent me to getcha." Marc said. Celia sat up and stared at the door.

"I'm not going." She said.

"But boss says he needs ya-"

"Well '_boss'_ needs to learn some _manners_ before he thinks he can _order me around_!" she said. Silence, then the jiggling of the doorknob.

"Aw, jeez, lady. Can't ya just come with me to the damned office?" Marc asked when it wouldn't open. Celia shook her head furiously.

"_No_."

"Why not?"

"Put yourself in my shoes and ask that question again!" she snapped.

"'Kay, no need to get _crazy_ on me, I'm just doing what I'm told ta do-"

"And I'm _not_! _So go away_!" Celia yelled, and lay back down on her side, still watching the door. She heard keys jingle from the other side, and heard the lock click. She frowned.

'No matter,' she thought. 'The dresser will keep him out. He's a scrawny guy, he won't be able to push the door open…'

Just then the door opened and Marc stepped into the doorway. Celia gawked as he looked down at the dresser in front of him.

"Uh, lady," he said in slight amusement. "I think this only works if the door opens the other way…" Celia's eyes narrowed.

"So I've noticed…"

"Look, lady, I'm not gonna climb over this thing to get you, mainly 'cuz you're a scary broad. But, I gotta tell ya, Shark'll get pretty pissed if I go back without ya. He won't be _happy_, is what I'm sayin'."

"So?" Celia said, and turned her back to him. "I won't allow myself to be pushed around by some brute with a shark fetish. Close the door on the way out, if you please."

"Alright, alright. I warned you, though." Marc said, and turned to leave. As he closed the door, Celia heard him say, "This chick is _nuts_." She smirked.

"Not nuts, just fed up with guys being complete _jerks_…"

She took the phone and placed it on its rest, then straightened it out. After that she straightened out the alarm clock. Perfect. She then got up and picked up her dirty clothes from the floor, and placed it in the small hamper in her closet. She looked over the rest of the room. It was all in order, except for the dresser, but she would move that later after she got some sleep.

She looked at the alarm clock; three-thirty. Normally, she would be sleeping, and since it was Saturday, she would wake up at nine and do her usual grocery shopping and clean her laundry. After that, she would read, most of her reading material being non-fiction; she had no time for silly fantasy or sci-fi. Her father always said it was healthy to read as much educational material as possible and build on vocabulary and knowledge, but Celia never once saw him read in her life. Perhaps he read alone, like she did, or perhaps he was a hypocrite…

'Or maybe he was just building me to be the perfect worker…' she thought numbly. She looked around for a book shelf, or a _book_. None were there, and she didn't recall seeing a bookshelf in the lounge. Of course, she wasn't exactly looking for one when she was in there, so she may have missed it. '

Shaking her head and wondering what she would use for reading material in the afternoon, Celia walked over to the bed and lay down. She stared at the white ceiling until her eyes became heavy. Slowly they began to close…

A loud bang on the door made her jump. She looked angrily to it, thinking Marc had returned.

"Go. _Away_!" she yelled. The door swung open.

Warren White stood there, and he looked livid. Celia only glared at him, and didn't move from her spot. White kicked the dresser had and it tipped over, hitting the floor with a loud 'thud.' Celia sat up as he stormed in and headed towards her. A flash of fear ran through her heart as he reached out.

He grabbed her shirt collar and pulled her off the bed. She gasped as he hoisted her up and pulled her by her wrist to the door. She tried to get free, but is grip was like iron, and he pulled her struggling body along like she was nothing but a simple doll.

They walked through the small lounge to the stairs and descended. Because of how quickly he walked, Celia almost tripped every few steps. When they reached the door to his office, he opened it and threw her inside. She stumbled, and he closed the door behind him. He walked over and grabbed her collar again, then dragged her to the pool, where he forced her to look into it where the shark swam dangerously.

"Did you know that a great white shark bites with a force that is equivalent to twenty thousand pounds of pressure per square inch?" he asked quietly. Celia kept her eyes on the shark, afraid that White would push her in. He leaned in closely to her. "Let me tell you something, Miss Bailey; this shark isn't used for only _show_…"

White let her go, and she backed quickly away from the pool. He walked over to his desk and sat down, then pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and placed it over his pointed teeth.

"This isn't a game, Celia Bailey, and I don't like that you're treating the situation you're in like one. I'm a dangerous man, and you are acting like a fool, something of which I have _very_ little patience for."

"And I have very little patience for jerks like you-"

"Oh, shut up, woman." White said, making Celia's face turn red.

"Excuse m-"

"If you had little patience for _jerks_, then you wouldn't allow people like that Matt fellow anywhere near you. You wouldn't allow people like your father to use you as he does, and you _certainly_ would have fought a little harder while I was dragging your dumbass down here…" White said. He looked at her, practically daring her to argue. Celia kept quiet, but glowered at him from her spot.

"Now, from now on you will do as I say, and I will no longer be so lenient should you do otherwise. Life here can be really simple, Miss Bailey, or it can be _incredibly_ painful. I don't give a damn either way, so it's just up to you whether or not you want to leave here, ah, _incomplete_." He said, his brown eyes seeming to darken as he looked back over to the pool. Celia glanced at the shark, then back to White. She saw very little difference between them, just that White had a suit on…

"Yeah…whatever…" she said, noting the seriousness in his voice. He wasn't bluffing this time. He meant it. White nodded and picked up a paper from his desk to read over.

"Like I said; do as I say and life can be simple here. If you can't live with that, then all I can simply say is _welcome to hell_."

Celia clenched her jaw.

"Yeah…whatever…" she said again. White looked over to her as she glared at him from the floor. He sighed, and looked back to the paper in his hand.

"You aren't in the right mind to talk business, so I'll let you to go to your room for the evening. We'll discuss this tomorrow afternoon." He said. Celia blinked.

"You dragged me down here for nothing then…" she said bitterly. He shrugged.

"I needed to prove a point, and I've done that. Good night, Miss Bailey." He said, then fell silent as he began to read. Celia stood up and walked briskly back to her room. She slammed the door behind her and nearly tripped on the fallen dresser as she made her way to her bed. She lay down, and screamed with fury into her pillow until her voice became hoarse.

Minutes later she fell asleep angry, remembering what White had said.

'Welcome to hell.' She thought as she drifted off. 'Yeah…whatever…'


	4. Argument

Celia woke up at ten a.m. the next morning. Not bothering to open her eyes, she reached out and stretched her arms, a small pop escaping her elbows. When she opened her eyes, the white ceiling greeted her. Her fingers curled around the black blanket atop her as she remembered the events from last night.

She was a hostage.

"Shit..." she mumbled before sitting herself up. She looked over to the fallen dresser and sighed. It was going to be a bitch righting that thing again. Shaking her head, she stood groggily from the bed and went to it. After a few painful moments, she got it back on its legs, and she hauled it back against the wall before taking from it some undergarments and going to the closet to change her outfit. After she changed into a long sleeved white bouse and black dress pants, she folded her nightwear neatly and tucked it back into the dresser drawer she had taken them from.

She walked to the bathroom in search of a brush. When she found one, she raised it to her hair. Celia stopped when she saw her the reflection of her wrist in the mirror. Thick, dark bruises covered it. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered how tightly White had gripped her when he dragged her to his office last night.

"Damned bastard should have some manners surgically implanted in him...as well as a face..." she quickly brushed her hair and checked herself for anymore bruising. Finding none, she walked to the desk in her room and sat in the black rolling chair. "Now what?"

The rumbling of her stomach answered her question, and Celia groaned. She really didn't want to leave her room, and she especially didn't want to run into White again. Her stomach persisted, and growled louder.

"Ugh...I'd rather eat my arm then go out there..." her hands gripped the desk, trying in vein to keep herself seated, but after some minutes, her hunger won, and she cursed herself as she stood. "Goddamned high metabolism..." she muttered, walking to the bedroom door and opening it to leave the safety of her small living space. "This is going to suck..." she said as she quickly passed the metal stairs that lead to White's bedroom.

Once she reached the lounge area downstairs, she noticed Jerry sitting on one of the lush black couches, watching the weather report on the television. His back was turned to her, and she quieted her footsteps as she continued on her way to the kitchen. The last thing she wanted to do at this moment was chat with one of her kidnappers. Especially White.

Celia had expected the kitchen area to be small, but her eyes widened when she took in the sight of the large area that was almost as big as her living room at her apartment. Marble counters lined the wall as well as a sleek black refrigerator, oven, and dishwasher. An island counter rest in the center of the kitchen, and cabinets hung, from above the oven and dishwasher. Farther back was a door that lead to a small pantry, and near a wall with wide windows sat a maple dining table, complete with six matching chairs.

"Oh, wow..." she said quietly, walking in slowly and inspecting everything. As she went to open one of the cabinets, she rest her hand on one of the counters. She paused just before opening the cabinet, and raised her hand slowly from the counter surface. A thin layer of oil covered her fingers. Celia gulped, her OCD beginning to kick into gear as her appetite faded into a sense of mild disgust. Her eyes looked to the tiled floor, and she groaned at the light tread of dirt that most likely came from one of White's far from clean lackeys. Celia's eye twitched, and she quickly made her way to the refrigerator. Inside of it, everything seemed to just be thrown in there, no organization at all. The same disorder was in the cabinets, the silverware drawers, and the pantry.

"Don't freak out, Celia..." she said to herself as she backed away slowly to the kitchen door. "It's not like this your place. Why do you even care?" Wide eyes stared one last time at the kitchen as she clicked her fingernails, her OCD beating away at her skull. Her shoulders finally slumped in defeat, and she pushed up her sleeves.

Yes, this would be Hell, indeed...

...

Half an hour later, Celia had mopped the floor and wiped off the countertops and organized the pantry in a meticulous fashion, making sure she hadn't missed anything as she went. Now the contents of the silverware drawers were being re-organized, the spoons, forks, knives, and other utensils being placed in their intended respective places. She wrenched from one drawer a rolling pin, a frown on her face.

"_How did they even fit this thing in there?_" she asked exasperatedly, turning to place it in the sink for further cleaning.

"What the hell?" came a gruff voice. Celia whipped around to see Jerry standing just outside the kitchen, a mixture of surprise and slight awe as he stared around the nearly sparling kitchen. He went to take a step forward, but Celia ran up and held up the rolling pin threateningly to stop him, succeeding.

"You know how well I can swing a frying pan." she said with forced confidence. She'd be damned if he'd tread more dirt in this kitchen right after she cleaned it. "Don't make me show you what I can do with one of these..." she shook the rolling pin, and Jerry took a slow step back, his hands raised a little in submission. This chick was nuts.

"I just wanted ta get a pop-tart, lady..." he said, his eyes on her cylindrical weapon. She huffed.

"Stand there." she said, and went to the pantry to retrieve what he'd wanted. Once she returned, and handed the silvery packet of pop-tarts to him and pointed one of her slender fingers at his face. "Next time you come in here, your shoes will be off and you will clean up any mess you make before you leave. Understood?" Jerry furrowed his brow, wanting to ask just who the hell she thought she was, but the dangerous expression she showed him kept his mouth shut. He nodded once, and slowly walked away, not turning his back on her until he thought he was a safe distance away.

"Chick's crazy..." he muttered as he sat back down. As he went back to watching the news, he opened the packet of pop-tarts a little bit more carefully than normal. He didn't want her biting his head off if she found crumbs on the couch...

Celia smirked as she went back to re-organizing, placing the rolling pin in the sink before reaching the drawers.

"Point for me..."

...

"Where the hell is Bailey?"

Jerry jumped slightly at the annoyed sound of his boss' voice. He turned from the television to point to the kitchen.

"She's uh..." Jerry said, "I think she's cleanin'." White quirked a non-existent brow.

"_Cleaning_?"

"Yeah, be careful if ya walk in there." Jerry said, nodding quickly. "She threatened me with a friggin' rollin' pin when I tried to get damned pop-tart. She's a barbie doll, but she's a little fire-cracker when she wants ta be..." White rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen.

"Of all the damned things she could be doing..." he muttered, taking a handkerchief and wiping his mouth. "she's _cleaning_..." he scoffed at the idea as he reached the door and opened it, and his eyes widened at the sight of Celia adjusting the contents of oe of the cabinets, a thoughtful expression on her face.

As she placed a box of instant rice back in the cabinet, Celia heard someone cough.

"What do you want now?" she asked, thinking it was Jerry.

"To go over business with you, but you obviously seem to be busy..." Celia almost dropped the box of spaghetti she held at the sound of White's voice. Quickly regaining her composure, she set the spaghetti down and turned to him with a glare. He gestured to the kitchen. "_Really?_" he asked. Celia scowled, and went back to her organizing.

"If you don't have anything to say, _get out_." she said. The corner of White's wide, toothed mouth turned upward into a smirk.

"Did you forget who this kitchen _belongs _to?" he asked. Celia's eyes hooded.

"Probably not _you_, since _you_ are an escaped Arkham patient and I _highly _doubt that the owners of this building would have willingly given you a place such as this..." she quipped.

"Did it occur to your precious little brain that I might own this building?" White asked, crossing his arms and leaning backward against the counter. Celia nodded.

"Yes, but if it _did,_ then Batman or the Gotham Police would have checked this building first after the news of your escape and would have kept it closely monitored." she said. "And you have been out for a relatively long amount of time. If this building was yours, you'd have been found by now, and I wouldn't be in this mess."

"Yeah, they would have..." White said, picking up a box of frosted flakes and inspecting it. "But sadly, their jurisdiction only goes as far as Gotham City, doesn't it?" Celia stopped what she was doing and turned slowly to her captor, her mouth slightly agape.

"Are you telling me that we _aren't even in Gotham_?" she asked slowly. White shrugged, feigning ignorance, but the smile he wore told Celia everything. "Where are we?" she asked.

"That's a secret."

"Why am I here?"

"You know the answer to that already. My turn to ask a question." White said before Celia opened her mouth again. "Why are you cleaning my kitchen?" he asked. "I expected that you would be attempting to escape on your first day here, but here you remain, making everything in here spotless. I mean," He looked up at the cabinet of boxes, "you're even arranging the fucking food by height." Celia clenched her hands into fists.

"This place was a mess, and I cleaned it. That's all." she said through her teeth. White cocked his head to the side.

"I don't think it was a mess. It was already clean enough by society's standards-"

"Not _my_ standards." Celia said. White's mouth turned downward to a frown.

"And what are your _standards_, Miss Bailey, if you don't mind my asking? Oh, _wait_, don't tell me. I know the answer to this one." he said. "It's _perfection_, right? Everything has to be perfect?" Celia scowled for a second, but straightened up and crossed her arms.

"And what if it is?" she asked. "So what if I prefer everything to be in order?"

"Because it makes you into a robot. Your brain is so fucking robotic that your life is nothing but a routine based around work and keeping everything perfect. That's not normal lady." he said. Celia's eyes narrowed into slits.

"And what would _you_ know about _normal_?" she asked, looking directly into his face. For a split second she regretted her words, as he gave a look that suggested he was ready to explode. But as quickly as it came, the expression passed, and he shrugged as he opened the box of corn flakes in his hands.

"A bit below the belt, Miss Bailey, but a good question all the same." he said calmly. "I do know one thing for sure about normalcy..." he said, and tipped the box over, the contents spilling onto the counter and the floor. Celia's eyes widened at the new mess, and White smirked as he dropped the now empty cereal box to the floor. "Normal people don't freak out like you over a mess." he said. Celia's hands shook, and she looked up to White in disbelief.

"You dare-"

"Yes, _I dare_. You forget yourself, Celia. It's not like you can do anything about it." he said, propping his arm on the counter, his expression daring her to try and do something. Celia's lip curled, and saw something from the corner of her eye. The knife rack. Acting quickly, she snatched up one of the freshly cleaned butcher knives and pointed it at him threateningly. White's eyes became dark, but he didn't move from his spot. "Really, all this over cereal?" he asked, no amusement in his voice.

"No, not over cereal, you son of a bitch!" she yelled. "You kidnapped me! Threatened me! Bruised me! And now you're looking down on my life as if you have some sort of superiority over me! _Fuck you_!"

"Hey boss!" Jerry called, reaching the kitchen door. "Is everything o-" he stopped when he saw the two people in front of him. "Oh, shit..." he said, drawing his gun.

"No need for that, Jerry." White said in reassurance. "She's not going to do anything."

"How do you know that?" Celia said, her voice and hands shaking. White took his handkerchief and wiped over his mouth again before answering.

"You don't have it in you." he said. "Your types never do. The little princess. Never committed a violent act in your life, have you?" he asked. "No, that would take away your air of perfection. Perfect girls don't do violent things-" before he could finish, Celia took a step closer, stopping his words.

"I will..." she muttered. White stared at her hard for a moment before taking a step forward, closing the space between him and the knife. He tilted his head to expose his neck.

"Okay." he said. "Do it. Slice me open. End my misery, and all that." he said. "I'll even put my hands behind my back." he did as he said he would, and Celia's mouth dropped open.

"You're insane-"

"Hence the fact I'm an Arkham patient. Now can you please get a move on?" he asked, tapping his foot impatiently. Celia swallowed, her hands shaking even more as she raised the knife. Was she really going to do this?

'He kidnapped me. I should do it. He deserves it. If I don't do it now, who knows what he'll do to me...' her thoughts raced through her mind fore several agonizingly silent moments. Finally, she took a shaky breath and lowered the knife, feeling defeated. White lowered his head again and sneered.

"I knew it." he said. Celia carefully placed the knife back on the rack and looked at him, forcing an expression of indifference.

"Simply because I refuse to lower myself to your wretched level, Mr. White, does not mean you have any right to condescend me for doing nothing. Not all of us in the world are cold-blooded murderers." she went to walk past him and return to her room, but his hand shot out and wrapped itself around her neck. She gasped, and his grip on her throat tightened slightly as he brought his mouth of pointed teeth close to her face.

"Quite right you are, Miss Bailey." he said quietly. "I _am_ a murderer. I love killing. _I revel in it_. So remember that fact, Miss Bailey, the next time you decide to test me. If not, you'll come to find that my temper has a very _short_ fuse..." he gave her neck on small squeeze to further his point before letting her go. She coughed, and rubbed her neck as she walked quickly away and to the kitchen door. "Oh, and Miss Bailey..." White called, and Celia stopped just before she was out the door. "We'll have our business meeting at three. Be in my office by then with your mind about you. We don't want a repeat of yesterday..." Celia clenched her jaw and continued walking, leaving him and Jerry in the kitchen. White looked down at the spilled cereal. "Get someone to clean this up..." he said to Jerry.

"Uh, yes boss." Jerry said. White nodded, and left the room to go to his office. As he left, he saw her as she turned the corner up the stairs. He glowered.

"Women..."


	5. Business Dealings

Later on, Celia checked the time on the wall clock in her room. It was two forty-three, and her meeting with White was in less than fifteen minutes. She scowled, tapping the desk she sat at in agitation as she remembered his hand wrapped around her neck, his threatening teeth only inches away from her terrified face.

"I should have stabbed him and run..." she mumbled, berating herself for setting the blade down instead of taking his invitation to end him then and there. The opportunity was there, handed to her even, and she didn't go for it. All she could do was walk away. "He'd have done something before I hit him anyway..." she said. The Great White Shark wouldn't allow his death to be brought to him by some woman. He would have stopped her before the blade came down upon him. Something terrible, most likely. He had said before that all he needed was her knowledge, and she knew he wasn't afraid of committing a horrible act, unlike her, who didn't even have the guts to try.

"Perfect girls don't do violent things..." she repeated his words, resting her chin on her hand. For some reason, it almost sounded like an insult when she said it. She wasn't perfect, after all. Celia Bailey had her faults. It wasn't anybody's business whether or not she decided to make such faults public. Her free hand lowered and ghosted over her right thigh. She retracted it, and shook her head of the memories. She had to keep her composure, after all. When she went to his office, she wouldn't be washed up by any emotion. This was going to be a business meeting, and she knew very well how to behave as any business man or woman should. Her life was centered around business, and she'd be prepared at whatever White threw at her.

Celia stood from her chair when the clock struck two fifty. She went to the bathroom and checked herself over, fixing her hair and taking some calming breaths. She buttoned the cuffs of her sleeves, hiding the bruises on her wrist. Once that was done, she looked up to her reflection in the wide mirror, and attempted a small smile of confidence and encouragement, something no one else had given her since she was a teenager. It worked, but just barely. Clearing her throat, she walked out of her bathroom and to the door, feeling as ready as she could to face her captor once again as a small amount of confidence remained in her. Everything would go smoothly this time.

Their next encounter would run perfectly.

...

Once she reached his office door, it was two fifty-nine. Knocking on the door, she waited for permission to enter. Didn't want any other reason to tick him off, and she didn't know whether to just walk in or not.

"Door's open." his muffled voice said from inside the office after a moment. Celia let herself in, closing the door softly behind her. White sat behind his desk, looking over a file. When he saw her, he checked his watch, and he smiled. "My, but your exactly on time, Miss Bailey." he said, looking to her. "But that's expected from you, isn't it?" he asked. Celia didn't answer him, her attention instead on the large pool she walked around as she made for his desk. Her eyes landed once again on the shark, and she shivered at the memory of almost being its late night snack.

"How did you get that thing in here, anyway?" she asked when she reached his desk, seating herself in the poofed black chair in front of it. White glanced over at the pool.

"Oh, Muriel? I caught her while deep-sea fishing. She was much smaller then. I brought her here after that in a cooler full of salt water. Took forever, but the end result was worth it. Who else can say they have a shark in their office?" he said.

"Why on earth would you _want _a shark in your office?" she asked. White shrugged, picking up his folder again.

"Why not? It was a spontaneous decision. I understand that you probably don't know anything about spontaneity, being stuck in that habitual routine life of yours..." he said. Celia felt aggravation well inside of her, but concluded that he was probably attempting to get such a rise out of her. Not wanting to please him, she leaned back in her seat and laced her fingers together over her lap.

"I'd say I understand spontaneity, Mr. White." she said, her voice unwaveringly calm. "I woke up one night and was kidnapped by three thugs, watched one of them die, then was nearly eaten by a shark. If that isn't spontaneous, then perhaps I don't understand the definition." she said. White thought her comment over, then nodded.

"Point well given, Miss Bailey. Now, onto business." he said, placing the folder in front of her. Celia picked it up and opened it. Her brows rose at the folder's contents.

"This is my personal information folder." she said, looking up at him. "How did you get your hands on this?" she asked.

"Your father isn't the most watchful person, Miss Bailey." White said. "It wasn't difficult to snatch the folder and hide it under my jacket while we toured the building and he went on and on about how brilliant his company was. I nearly wanted to kill him just to shut him up." he said, taking his handkerchief to his mouth again.

"Why did you need this?" Celia asked.

"Well, after I learned that you'd be very handy to my cause, I took the folder. It's how I found out where you lived, after all. I just had to figure out who and what you lived with, and you answered that after one simple chat." he said. Celia gripped the folder.

"That evening in the parking lot..." she said, and he nodded.

"Yes, when I had to get rid of that shit-bird Matt Burns for you. He's another man I wanted sorely to kill that day. You should really carry some pepper spray with you, Miss Bailey. That guy could be an issue. Anyway, we chatted, I found out you lived alone, and here we are today, bright smiles on both our faces..." he said. Celia stared down at her folder.

"I knew there was something odd about you." she said. "But you acted so charmingly that I simply ignored my small suspicions."

"Yes, well," White said, leaning back in his seat and clasping his hands behind his head, clearly pleased with what she had just said, "I _am _quite the charmer when I want to be."

"Apparently..." Celia muttered.

'He's as arrogant as he is dangerous.' she thought.

"What do you need with this file now, anyway. You have me. What could you possibly need it for?" she asked, returning to the subject at hand.

"Well for one thing, it holds a list of things you're allergic to. Blackberries? Really?" he asked. Celia flushed, and he continued. "But it also holds the information that you are able to take a month worth of vacation time every year." he said.

"What do you need with that information?" Celia asked. She began to feel wary when he mentioned her father. White leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk.

"Miss Bailey..." he said. "I don't want this becoming a hostage situation." Celia blinked rapidly at his comment. She didn't expect the manic giggle to erupt from her throat, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle it.

"What-" another giggle, and she forced herself regain her composer. "What the h-hell do you think this is?" she asked, pointing at both herself and White. "I'm not here for the hell of it and I'm certainly not visiting a friend!" she said. White raised his hand to quieten her, and she waited for his response.

"This isn't technically a hostage situation. Not yet." he said. Celia took on a look of disbelief.

"I would love to hear your explanation, Mr. White! Because I for one am obviously confused." she said.

"Well, for one thing," he said, "Your disappearance hasn't even gone noticed. No one has attempted to even contact you. So far as the world knows, Celia Bailey is going on with her regular Saturday afternoon routine, not a care in the world." he said. Celia's voice caught in her throat at his words, and she felt herself slump slightly. No one knew she was missing. She was the only one who knew about her situation. Even on Monday, when she usually went to work, would anyone notice? She had no friends, and her father was always somewhere else other than work except on meeting days. The only one she could think would notice was Matt.

That thought alone was horribly depressing.

"Oh, _God_..." she mumbled, and she pinched the brim of her nose. White huffed a short laugh.

"Even I thought it was sad." he said. "You, Miss Bailey, are a prime candidate for a kidnapper to capture. There are _so_ many things you're perfect at, aren't there?" She shot him a look.

"As you were saying, Mr. White." she said in a warning tone. He smirked, and went on.

"Besides the fact that nobody knows you're in mortal peril, I'm also not here to just kidnap you and demand a ransom to have you returned. That would really make this a hostage situation. Instead of demanding a couple million bucks all over the news and compromising my position here by attracting the attention of people I don't want looking for me, I'd rather do this." he said, gesturing to her. "You see, I don't think of this as a hostage situation, Miss Bailey." He leaned forward. "I see this as a business deal." Celia furrowed her brow.

"A..._business deal._.." she said the words heavily. He nodded.

"Yes, exactly. Here's the deal: you help me get my hands on your company's profits, and I'll let you go. This is going to take some time to complete, as we both know, but that's why I'm so happy that you so meticulously made sure you knew everything about your company. That robot brain of yours is quite precious to me. Plus, your cooperation will surely mean your release will come much sooner than I have originally estimated." Celia looked up at him.

"And...what is your original estimation?" she asked. He tilted his hand from side to said.

"About a month, give or take a few days." he said. Celia gripped the arms of her chair. A month in this place? A month having to talk to Warren White?

"Jesus..."

"Like I said, so long as you cooperate, you'll most likely be leaving much sooner." he said.

"You're insane..." Celia muttered.

"Yes, we've established that. A knife-point, no less." White said, rolling his eyes. Celia ignored him, her grip tightening on the arms of her chair.

"And what if I refuse this so-called deal you are proposing?" she asked. She could have sworn she saw his teeth flash as his eyes narrowed.

"Well, if that happens, I give you one night to think over your decision and the next day start taking fingers until you _do _decide to cooperate." he said bluntly, no hint of a bluff in his voice. Celia's face paled, and he continued. "Now, I _think_ you'll say 'okay' after the first finger's gone, but you've shown in the time we've known each other that you can be quite the firecracker, as Jerry put so eloquently. Maybe you'll last until two fingers are gone-"

"Shut up." Celia said, raising her hand to her mouth. "Just please..._shut up_..." He did as requested, and she stared down at her lap. Her vision became clouded, and she cursed herself under her breath. One tear escaped her eye and landed on the folder. White raised a brow at this, then sighed and opened one of the drawers of his desk. From it, he retrieved a small box of tissues and tossed it on the desk in front of her. Celia noticed them, and glanced his way before slowly taking one and dabbing her eyes. "Thank you..." she mumbled, he nodded once and drummed his fingers on the table silently as she recomposed herself. When she was finally looking back at him he crossed his arms.

"You've lived a sheltered life, Miss Bailey." he said calmly. "I'm not condescending you this time. I'm simply stating a fact. You are going to realize that life can't in any way be this wonderful little world where everything goes by smoothly. No matter how much you try, it's not _perfect_. It never will be. It's sad that it took so long for life to finally jump up and bite you in the ass, but here it is." he gestured to the room. "This is life, and it is complete shit. Welcome to reality, where nothing is what it seems and everything fucks you over in the end. I'm not going to sugar-coat it for you and tell you your stay here is going to be all flowers and rainbows-"

"I already knew _that_..." Celia interrupted.

"The situation you're going through right now is incredibly dangerous." he said, ignoring her comment. "And I hope you've realized that. If not, then wake the fuck up. I'm a bad man, Miss Bailey. I'm a bad man who wants only one thing._ Money_. And to get that money, you need to know that I'm willing to do much, _much_ worse than bruising your dainty wrists. Painful things come to those who don't cooperate, Miss Bailey. You can count on that." after that, White quieted again, letting her think on his words. Celia ran them all through her head over and over again, weighing her options. Cooperate, or get maimed _then_ cooperate...

'He just wants money. It's not like he'll harm anyone...' she thought to herself, glancing back at him. 'Not that I know of, anyway...' she took a long, shaky breath, and straightened her posture, clutching the tissue in her hand.

"You make a deal that's hard to refuse, Mr. White." she said. He smiled.

"I've been told that once or twice." he said, and held his hand out to shake hers. "Do we have a deal, Miss Bailey?" she looked at his hand, almost afraid to touch him.

"You won't harm my father?" she asked.

"No use for it. So no." he said. She nodded, and took his hand. They shook once, and released each other. Celia felt a heavy weight fall on her shoulders. She was betraying her father, doing this.

'I'm sorry, daddy...'

"So, first thing's first." White said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them together in anticipation. "We're gonna call dear ol' dad real quick." Celia was shocked.

"But you said-"

"I said I wouldn't hurt him, and I won't. I just need you to tell him you'll be off work and on vacation for a month. That's all." he said before she could go into hysterics. Celia calmed, but still felt wary as he pulled from his drawer a cellphone. Her cellphone.

"Hey, that's mine." she said.

"Yup, had the guys grab this before leaving with you. That's how I know no one's contacted you." He turned it on and viewed her home screen. "Dolphins. Cute." he said, and slid the phone over to her. She went to take it, but he stopped her with a tisk. "Now I warn you, Miss Bailey. Mention any of what's really going on to him, and this _will_ become a hostage situation, and remember that I'm not shy to bruising you up. At. _All._" he said. She swallowed, and nodded, moving to dial her father's number. Before she pressed send, however, she stopped herself. A small idea formed in her mind and she looked up. White cocked his head to the side."What's the hold up?"

"You're a businessman, White." she said. His eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms, but nodded.

"Yeah, that I am..."

"And you do like making deals. So instead of threatening me like a hostage, why not make this a deal." she waved the cellular device in the air. He huffed, but she could tell he was interested. She went on when he didn't speak. "I'll call my father, guaranteeing absolutely no hints that I'm here, and tell him that I'm going on vacation, just like you want." she said.

"_And._..what do you want?" he asked, expecting something like 'freedom' or maybe some new cleaning tools.

"I want Monty." she said. He frowned.

"Who the fuck is Monty?" he asked.

"My beta fish. He's back at my apartment. Guarantee you'll have him brought here, and we have a deal." she said. His eyes widened.

"Your pet fish..." he said. "And if I say no?" he asked.

"I'll still make the call, but then the whole not-a-hostage-situation idea you planned would be thrown out the window. Make the deal, and we'll both be happy by the end of this meeting." she said. White smirked, and cracked his knuckles in thought. Celia found herself really hoping he'd say yes. Having her fish would make her feel a little easier staying here. His presence would at least be comforting. White finally threw his hands up in the air.

"Fine, I'll have Marc get your damned fish. Just make the call." he said. Celia shook her head, holding her hand out.

"Shake on it." she said. White's brow rose.

"You don't trust me?" he asked.

"About as far as I can throw you, Marc, and Jerry combined..." she said. He regarded her, and smiled as he took her hand, shaking his head in disbelief. Once the shook, he leaned back in his seat, taking his handkerchief to his mouth.

"All this over a fucking fish..." he said. Celia smirked.

"That's _my _fucking fish, Mr. White." she said before dialing her father's number. Once it was ringing, she held it up to her ear.

"Put it on speaker." he said, and she looked at him.

"You don't trust me?" she mimicked him.

"I know I can throw you pretty far, but I don't trust you in the least bit." he said. Nodding in understanding, she changed the setting to speakerphone and set the phone on the desk. A few rings later, the phone was answered, and Celia waited for someone to speak.

This was going to be difficult...


	6. Late Night

"Mr. Bailey's office..." a snarky woman's voice said. It was obvious she was smacking bubblegum. "How can I help you..."

"Hello, Edith, it's Celia Bailey." Celia said with fake brightness. She simply pretended she was at work, and even forced one of her fake smiles as she spoke out of habit. White watched this intently, taking in her businesslike features. She was able to switch so quickly. It was almost scary. "Can I please speak with my father?" Celia went on with her faked voice.

"Uh..." Edith said, and Celia and White waited for her to reply as they listened to her gum smacking. "I think he's doing something right now..."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be able to speak with me anyway. I _am_ his daughter." Celia said, mentally strangling the receptionist.

"Um, what's you're name again?" Edith asked.

"_Celia,_ Edith. Celia Bailey." Celia said. White shook his head slowly, feeling an ounce of respect for Celia's ability to not explode at the woman. He'd have already made at least twelve death threats...

"Oh, yeah. Um, okay, I'll transfer you." Edith finally said, and both White and Celia exhaled in relief.

"Thank you, Edith..." Celia said before the phone went back to ringing as she was transferred.

"How did he even hire that idiot?" White asked.

"He figured that someone as annoyingly lazy as her would make people frustrated enough to hang up and leave him alone. A brilliant plan, really..."

"I'd say. I wanted to rip her tongue o-"

"Hello? Celia? Sweetheart?" Mr. Bailey's voice boomed from the cellphone, snapping their attention back to the task at hand.

"Hey, daddy." Celia said.

"Hello, my dear! How is your day going! Mine's not so exciting sadly! Being the CEO of a high-profiting company sadly requires-"

"_Work on weekends_. I know, daddy." Celia said, keeping her voice pleasant. He laughed.

"_Of course you do_! You _need _to if you're going to be taking my position someday!" he said. White barely noticed Celia's smile drop by the slightest, and his eyes narrowed as he stored the gesture away in his memory. He'd bring that up later...

"Yes, of course daddy." Celia said. "But to the reason why I called."

"Ah, yes! What is it, my dear?" Mr. Bailey asked.

"Um, I just wanted to inform you that I'll be going on vacation." she said.

"Oh, really?" Mr. Bailey said in surprise. "It's only May. You normally take time off in August and December!" he said.

"Yes, I know it's..._highly_ unusual of me, but that's what's happening."

"For how long will you be away?" Mr. Bailey asked. Celia glanced at White.

"A month, daddy." she said.

"An entire month?!" he asked, shocked. "That's a long time to be away! You'll be using all of your vacation days!"

"Yes, I know, but-"

"Why the sudden need to go away for so long? Celia, are you quite alright?" he asked.

"Um, yes. I'm fine." Celia said, and paused. Why was she on vacation? She and White never covered this. Dammit. She needed to think quickly. "I've...uh...I've...met someone?" she asked slowly, looking to White for approval. He shrugged. It worked for him.

"What's that? You've met a man?" her father asked, and was very silent for some long moments. Celia begged the heavens that he wouldn't catch on to anything.

The boom of his voice nearly made her jump as he said a number of words of happiness, and she sighed in relief.

"I'm so happy, to hear that! Who is he? I expect only the best for my daughter! The perfect suitor!" he said.

"He's _perfect _alright..." Celia caught herself muttering sarcastically.

"What's that you say?" her father asked. Her eyes widened, and she sputtered.

"Oh, um, he's just wonderful, daddy. A real charmer." she stammered. She saw White cover his mouth. Not to wipe away any spittle, but to hold back a laugh. She kept her smile up, but her eyes shot daggers at him and he only smiled wider in amusement at her discomfort.

"Is he a real looker?" Mr. Bailey asked.

"Well, he's got a face you wouldn't be able to forget._ That's _for sure." she said, tilting her head innocently when he shot her a look.

"I like the sound of that!" he father said. "So this is why you're on vacation?"

"Yes, he and I would like to get to know each other more." she said.

"Saying that makes it sound like you just met." Mr. Bailey said.

"Oh, uh. We did. Just a few days ago, actually." she said. White rose a brow, and she shrugged her shoulders, indicating that she's having to work with what she's got.

"...Who is he? What's his name..." Mr. Bailey said, sounding slightly suspicious.

"Uh..." Celia tried to think while White went back to being amused with the situation. She noticed his smile, and smirked. "His name is William Doe, daddy." she said. All amusement drained from White's face immediately, and he stared at her with a look of complete anger. "You know him." Celia went on.

"Oooh!" her father said, ad she could hear the relief in his words. If only he'd known what was really going on. "Oh! The kindly fellow from the Metropolis company! Yes, he was rather polite. Very charming!" he said.

"He's been told." Celia said.

"So you got a look at him, eh? Poor fellow, having to deal with that sun allergy. It's not been an inconvenience, has it?" he asked.

"No, it hasn't." Celia said, knowing her father was asking about the convenience for her sake.

"Well, good! Is he there?" he asked. Celia saw White's eyes widen as he shook his head.

"Yes, yes he is." she said. White looked like he wanted to strangle her, and he mouthed the word 'why'. She undid the button on one of her sleeves and showed him the bruises. She mouthed the word 'payback', and he glowered.

"Hello, Mr. Bailey..." he said, altering his voice to that of his created character. It was his turn to shoot arrows from his eyes, and Celia leaned back, feigning ignorance.

"Now you better take care of my girl, son!" Mr. Bailey said.

"_Oh yeah_...you can count on it..." White said, hinting at something dark with his words. It made Celia feel uneasy, and she mentally questioned her decision to mock him.

"Anyway, so you'll be gone a month, Celia?" Mr. Bailey asked.

"Yes, daddy." she said.

"Alright, someone will have to take up your job while you're gone." he said.

"Everything they would need is in my office in the cabinets, daddy. Everything is labeled, so they should be able to find it all easily. Don't worry." Celia said. She felt slightly uncomfortable at the thought of someone else going through her office and moving things around. For someone with her level of OCD, the idea was almost repulsive.

"Alright! And don't you fret! I know how orderly you are with your things! I'll make sure to have them place everything back exactly as it was!" Mr. Bailey said, as if reading her mind. Celia blinked. Was she really to predictable. She couldn't be so transparent, could she?

"That's a relief." she said, her smile wavering once more as she began to think on White's past words. A slave to routine. A robot. Before any of it could sink in, her father's voice called her back from her thoughts.

"Good! Now, I'll leave you two be! Much work to do, you know! Not all of us can take such a relaxing vacation! I'll see you in a month, dear!"

"Yes, daddy. I'll see you next month." she said, and the call ended. She slid the phone back over to rest in front of White, and he took it up, his expression disgruntled.

"You play too much, bringing me into the conversation." he said, tucking the phone back into the drawer. Celia noted the drawer it stayed in, and looked back to White. Useful information that would come in handy later on.

'To hell with this deal...' she thought to herself. 'I'm getting the hell out of here...'

"At least the story is more believable now." she said to White. If I named a different name and he wanted to speak with them, he'd be out of luck, wouldn't he?"

"True..." White said after a moment.

"So, what else? What now?" she asked.

"Glad you asked, Miss Bailey." he said. "Now that we have our cover, let's get on with the real business. Starting with that 'web' you mentioned while we were at lunch the other day."

"The web?" Celia asked. "Where on earth would we start there?" she asked.

"The beginning, Miss Bailey. The start point for it all."

"Well, that would be the company building."

"How many major partnerships do you have?" White asked.

"Why would you be interested in that?" she asked.

"Like you, I like to have all the details." he said. Celia sighed, massaging her temples with her forefingers. If he wanted to be that specific, then no wonder it would take a month to cover everything. This was going to be a while.

"Alright, Mr. White...pay close attention."

...

"I think that'll be all for today, Miss Bailey." White said after three hours of Celia feeding him information. Celia nodded, her mental voice thanking heaven that it was finally over. That entire ordeal was exhausting, and White didn't let up for a minute. Fore every explanation and answer she gave, he had more questions. A complete arsenal of queries set up for her that he fired at every moment she took a breath. It was madness.

"Thank God for that..." she said, tucking a loose strand of her white hair back behind her ear. "You really know how to wear a girl out..." when she heard what she said, her eyes flew open, the size of saucers. She clapped her hand over her mouth in disbelief at what she just said. She looked at White. "I-I didn't mean anything like th-"

"Let's just ignore that sexual innuendo you made, alright?" he said, smirking. "Wouldn't want you getting flustered, Miss Bailey." she blushed furiously, and shook her head.

"S-so when will I be getting Monty?" she asked, changing the subject. White checked his watch.

"Hmm. I can have Marc go get it now. Really, so worried about a simple fish." he said.

"He hasn't eaten all day." Celia said, mostly to herself. She almost felt as if she betrayed her little pet. He was all alone, with nothing but his little plastic castle to keep him company. The entire thought was absurd, but since Celia had already been through a number of absurd things and more, the thought of her fish being lonely seemed relatively normal.

"You have a major attachment to that thing." White said. "Why?" Celia raised her shoulders once.

"Just something to take care of, I guess. Plus, being so small, he doesn't make a mess. A good choice of pet for someone such as myself."

"I'm going to ignore the last remark, since I can tell that your oaf of a father had a lot of influence behind your words." White said. Celia frowned at his jab at her father, and went to give an agitated retort, but White held up his hand to silence her before she could, his eyes casting her a look of warning. Grumbling, she tapped the arm of her chair with her fingernail impatiently. It wasn't fair that he was able to say so much and she wasn't even able to defend herself afterwards. Then again, he had that authority. Just like her father did. "So," White continued, "let's focus on the first part of your answer."

"What about the first part?" Celia asked. Great, he was going to make fun again.

"You said the fish was something to take care of, and I understand just from the contents of your cellphone that you live a relatively..._quiet_ life." he said. Celia chewed the inside of her cheek, knowing that the word he was at first going to choose was 'lonely'. She gave a short breath through her nose. At least he had the decency to try and make her social life sound less depressing.

"Yeah, so..." she muttered. The response automatically seemed childlike to Celia, and she stopped chewing her cheek to look at White. His expression clarified that he had the same thought about her reply, and she straightened herself up to return to her businesslike appearance.

"It's obvious, Miss Bailey," White said, "That your social life is lax, but you claim to not even care about something such as that. And yet, even though you claim to be content in your tiny world with no friends, you cling to something as meaningless as a fish and even make a deal with a mob boss just to have it brought to you. Why do you reject society while at the same time pour your heart out to something so minuscule?"

Celia masked her utter shock to his words, and bit her tongue to hold back her resentment. First, this guy has her kidnapped, then he threatens her, and now here he is pretending to be some sort of twisted shrink. Keeping her composure, Celia coughed awkwardly, and White waited patiently for her response.

"Mr. White," she said, forcing her voice to keep its standard tone, but in her ears, it seemed more robotic than usual. Was it the situation making her sone so monotonous, or was it always like that, and she was just too busy to care until now? She remembered his words.

'Makes me into a robot...' she thought before continuing on with the point she wanted to make before he could try and delve deeper into her personal life and pull something she wanted to keep put away to the surface.

"I am strictly here for business, and business only." she said, looking directly into his eyes. "Therefore, our relationship is going to remain professional my entire stay here. I will not ask you any questions about your personal life, and I would like you to respectively not try and dig into my own. We will not swap stories or go out drinking or whatever people do on their free time with friends because we simply are not friends. We're barely even colleagues. And you will not be acting as some sort of psychiatrist for me when our business is done with. I'm not interested in anything but giving you the numbers, keeping from harm, staying alive, and going home."

White seemed to contemplate what she said for a matter of minutes before shrugging his shoulders and waving his hand in dismissal.

"Yeah, fine," he said, "your position is understandable. I had no right to pry into your life like I did. But I'll admit your reaction was interesting..." his eyes narrowed in curiosity and Celia felt them bore into her skull, as if White was attempting to figure everything out just by staring at her expressions. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat ad cleared her throat.

"May I leave now, if we're done?" she asked, her voice becoming smaller as he continued to gaze in thought. He blinked at her request, and nodded.

"You can go. Be here same time tomorrow unless I call you and say otherwise." he said.

"Alright. Tomorrow then." Celia stood from her seat and walked toward the door. She eyed the shark circling in the large pool and quickened her pace, holding her breath until she was close to the door.

"Have a comfortable evening, Miss Bailey." White called as she reached to open the door, shocking her. She turned to look curiously at him, and he noted her surprise and smirked. "And try not to clean anything, will you? Too much organization makes me edgy..." he said. Celia rolled her eyes and opened the door before walking out and closing it behind her.

"Edgy, huh?" she muttered, walking out to the living area and towards the stairs to her room. "I should make this place spotless and watch him squirm..." Once she reached her room, she sat roughly at her desk and stared hard at the white wall with such a fierce intensity that she was a little surprised that it didn't burst into flames. What the hell was with this Warren White character. Earlier he had choked her, and now he was wishing her a pleasant evening.

"I _did_ threaten him with a knife..." she mumbled in an attempt to reason, but she shook her head. It wasn't just the kitchen incident. Her entire stay here she had been afraid for her life. He was a criminal, after all. And not only that, he was considered insane. Celia had no idea about his psychological record, but had a good idea of what he was capable of. She couldn't help wondering why he was considered insane though. He was abusive, and cruel, yes, but he never showed any signs of actual craziness. Exactly what was the reason for him being sent to Arkham instead of Black Gate? She imagined him snapping and going on a murderous rampage, and shivered. He was a cold-blooded killer, and even admitted to enjoying taking people's lives. A total disregard for human life. Perhaps that was it. It certainly made sense to her, but she felt that it was a little more than that. There was always something else when it came to White. Something else to completely shock the young Miss Bailey once again.

"Hmph, like I should care anyway..." she muttered, folding her arms on the desk and laying her head on them. She suddenly felt the weight of the day press down on her, her eyes becoming heavy. She considered moving over to the bed, but found her body was too heavy, and she sighed slowly in defeat as she surrendered to a restless sleep.

...

When she awoke, she was greeted with a stabbing pain in her neck. Groaning, she slowly lifted herself from the table, the pain in her neck becoming worse before finally fading out. She rubbed her neck groggily, and glanced over to the alarm clock on her night stand. It was two forty-six a.m. Frowning, she stood, angry at herself for sleeping so long.

"I didn't even eat dinner..." she said, her stomach replying with a low rumble. She grimaced, and headed for the door to raid the kitchen for a light snack.

As she reached the kitchen, she left the lights out and headed straight for the refrigerator, remembering she'd made a fruit salad while cleaning the kitchen yesterday morning. Once she'd opened the fridge, however, she'd noticed it was gone.

"The hell?" she whispered in annoyance.

"Lookin' for this?" the sudden voice asked her, and Celia jumped violently before spinning in the direction the voice came from. The light from the open refrigerator revealed White sitting at the dining table one elbow propped onto the table, fork in hand. The bowl of fruit salad rested before him. Celia frowned, and closed the fridge before walking over and turning on the light over the dining table. White blinked a few times at the sudden light as they adjusted, and he smirked at her obvious annoyance with him.

"You couldn't get a plate?" Celia asked. He shrugged.

"You wouldn't have noticed." he said, stabbing a piece of pineapple with his fork and popping it into his mouth. He seemed to have swallowed it whole.

"Perhaps not..." Celia said, keeping herself focused on the argument. "But still..." White gave her a look and sighed.

"I may look like a monster, Miss Bailey, but it's not like I'm diseased. I'm not contaminating anything..." he said. Celia flushed.

"I-I wasn't meaning that! I just...it's not..." she sputtered, trying to put together a proper sentence. White sighed at her again as she continued her attempts and dropped the fork.

"It's fine. I'll leave you be." he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin standing briskly to leave, but Celia raised her hands.

"No! It's fine, really. Forget I said anything!" she said quickly. White regarded her with a look of shock, and Celia felt her own amount of surprise at what she had said. Her eyes hooded. "It's just..." she said, tapping herself on the head with her forefinger, "the OCD. I'm not used to sharing food in such a way...it's nothing, really. I didn't mean to offend you..." her voice was little, and she noticed it. So did White, and he quirked a brow at her.

"You're weird when you're tired..." he said to her. Before Celia could speak, her stomach growled again, loudly. She blushed furiously, and White's smirk returned.

"You not eat dinner or something?" he asked. Celia shook her head.

"Slept through it..." she said shyly, crossing her arms over her stomach. White noticed she was still in her day clothes.

"Long day in the office?" he joked, and Celia scowled at him.

"You would know all about that, wouldn't you?" she snipped. He shrugged and sat back down.

"It's not all my fault. I'm not used to working with little ladies." he said, retrieving his fork and eyeing the bowl of fruit chunks. Celia huffed and sat down across from him as he took another pineapple.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked her. Celia looked to the fruit bowl and back to him.

"You're eating what I want to eat..." she said.

"Here's a thought..." White said after eating the pineapple chunk, seeming to swallow it whole once again. "Get a fork and dig away..."

"I don't usually eat like that..." Celia mumbled.

"Then lose the force of habit or starve." White shrugged his shoulders and went back to the fruit salad. Celia furrowed her brow at him, and considered leaving, but her stomach growled again, making her grumble in agitation. Defeated, she stood and retrieved a fork from one of the drawers. She then snatched a plate from the cabinet and walked over to the table to sit once again. She scooped some fruit into her plate and picked at it gingerly. As she stared she noticed something missing. She peered back into the bowl, and frowned.

"You should stop doing that with your face," White said. "It'll freeze like that." Ignoring his comment, she looked up at him.

"Did you eat all the pineapple?" she asked. He searched the bowl.

"Hm, seems so..." he said with a hint of sadness. Celia leaned back in her seat and huffed.

"That's the best part..." she mumbled.

"I agree." White said, taking a chunk of pear from the bowl and examining it before eating it.

"And you ate it all..." she said.

"I guess I did." he said.

"I hate you..."

"We've established that, yes."

Celia went to speak again, but as she stared at the plate of fruit in front of her, she found that is was steadily becoming blurry. The familiar prick of tears startled her and she shook her head in an attempt to be rid of them. They persisted, however, and in a matter of moments the tears were falling down her face. White noticed her wiping them away and his eyes widened.

"The hell?" he asked. "Are you crying over fruit?" Celia shook her head quickly.

"I d-don't know why I'm crying!" she said in confusion. "It just..._happened, _and it won't stop..."

"God, you're fucking weird." he said, resting his chin on his hand. "And you're a crybaby..."

"Shut up..."

"At least you're showing you're human..." he said in amusement. "Who knew you just had to be tired and hungry to show that..."

"I thought I was a _robot_..." she said bitterly.

"Only when you remember to be..." White said. He looked out the window to the lit up city below, leaving Celia to think intently on what he had said.

'This person...' she thought, 'truly is strange...'


End file.
